


i don't know how but I'm taller (it must be something in the water)

by holidayonthemoon



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Adrian is also alive but he's not in this i just say so, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, First Kiss, Fix-It, Hugs, Infidelity, Love Confessions, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Self-Discovery, lots of hugs, so does Stan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:40:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26435065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holidayonthemoon/pseuds/holidayonthemoon
Summary: Premise: What if, in the intervening 27 years, Richie and Stan found excellent therapists and Mike started a grow-op?
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 16
Kudos: 96





	i don't know how but I'm taller (it must be something in the water)

**Author's Note:**

> The 7th was my Clowniversary, so I figured I'd finish up this WIP (which had been sitting in my g-docs since February) as a gift to myself. I didn't think I'd still be in Clowntown an entire year later, but who knew that 2020 would be the year of yearning. 
> 
> Also, I haven't seen the movie since then, and I have no interest in watching it again (except for the restaurant scene, which I watch probably once a month), so just wave your hands at any timeline issues, please.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! I really enjoyed finishing this one up, though it's nice to finally have it off my mind.

Eddie walked into his room at the townhouse and flopped inelegantly onto the bed. He grabbed a pillow and pushed it into his face to muffle a long, guttural groan. He would have screamed but he had done enough of that earlier that evening. The pillow smelled musty behind the scent of fabric softener. Eddie was beyond caring that the pillow was probably full of lice and the mattress full of bedbugs and the sheets full of bodily fluids. Instead, he was dealing with the mess of his own mind. The strange amnesia that had fucked up all his childhood memories was magically induced, and he was not, in fact, brain damaged or ill or a coward or in love with his wife or a momma’s boy, or at least he thought not. He felt like an egg dropped from a height onto a tile floor. Coming back to Derry had cracked him open and memories were oozing out. Very little was clear to him, but he had the sense that he wasn’t who he thought he was.

Eddie got up and went into the bathroom to get a beta-blocker that Dr. Nguyen had prescribed for his anxiety attacks. The guidelines stated that people suffering from asthma should not take beta-blockers, but she assured Eddie that he would be fine and told him to let her know if his shortness of breath got worse when he used them. It did not get worse. 

He dug into his toiletry bag, bypassing his massive pill box, full of vitamins and supplements, random things Myra picked up for every odd reason that came into her head. ( _Hon, you’ve been leaving your dishes in the living room again, so I got you some fish oil and_ _Huperzine A to help with your memory.)_ Maybe 10% of what was in there was even doctor recommended, let alone prescribed. He found the little orange bottle at the very bottom of the bag and palmed it. Eddie reached into his pocket with his free hand and took out his inhaler. It was almost empty, and he had called in his renewal to the pharmacy already to pick up tomorrow, so he tossed that in the bag with everything else.

Eddie was starting to suspect that Dr. Nguyen was right when she said that he had probably grown out of his asthma and that his symptoms were more related to anxiety than anything else. Why had he been so reluctant to believe that? Of course he was anxious. He had a stressful job and no friends and no creative outlets, and sometimes he just needed to scream at someone who would scream back until they both realized they were being stupid, which turned the whole thing into a big game, but he didn’t know he needed that because he hadn’t remembered Richie Tozier until about four hours ago. 

Eddie went back to his bed and sat down, then popped a pill in his mouth and dry-swallowed it. Richie fucking Tozier. Eddie huffed out a laugh. His idiot best friend was that shitty comedian Myra hated. Well, they both hated him. Just because he could always make Eddie laugh didn’t mean Richie was funny. Even so, whenever Eddie would catch a set of his on Comedy Central or on the late-night circuit, Eddie would watch to the end and feel a bit bereft when Richie would bid the crowd good night.

He pressed a hand to his forehead. He wanted to take an ibuprofen for the headache he felt coming on, but he didn’t think it would help. He could almost feel the brainspace that the Losers had taken up for all those years, inaccessible until now. No fucking wonder he had no friends and had gotten married to, well, he wasn’t ready to unpack that one yet. But he had been ruined for anyone but the Losers and had no idea. No one was as kind as Ben or as steady as Mike, and no one was as brave as Bill or as confident as Beverly or as weird as Stanley, and Richie, well-- 

There was a knock on the door. “Spaghetti, you decent?” Speak of the devil. Richie barged in carrying a glass with about a finger’s worth of whiskey. He had changed into sweat pants and was wearing a ratty souvenir t-shirt from a 2005 comedy festival that was about a size too small. Eddie stopped himself from staring at the strip of skin visible between the hem of Richie’s shirt and the waistband of his sweats. 

“Oh, hi, Richie. Why, yes, Richie, please come in, Richie,” Eddie said, while Richie got comfortable in the armchair in the corner. 

“What, I’m not a vampire. I don’t need to be invited in. Do you think vampires exist? I used to think they weren’t real, but now I’m not sure.” Richie downed the rest of the whiskey in one swallow and set the glass down on the side table next to the chair. He smacked his hands against his knees and stood back up, then started walking back towards the door. 

“You okay, man?” Eddie said. Richie was being weird, even for him, even considering everything that had happened that day. This was like, well, right before Eddie moved away when they were sixteen, and Richie was acting all nervous, full of pent up energy while he told Eddie that he needed to tell him something important, that Eddie should meet him at the clubhouse the next day before Eddie and his mom took off for Delaware. But when Eddie got there, Richie didn’t tell him anything, just gave him a few comic books Eddie hadn’t gotten to read yet and hugged him goodbye.

Richie stood in front of the door with his hand on the doorknob. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good, just nervous.” Richie turned around and leaned against the door frame. “Yeah, okay, so I need to tell you something and I’m not going to chicken out this time, so could you just, uh, just sit there and not say anything, even though you’re going to want to yell at me, but if I stop I won’t get to finish, which is something I said to your mom last night, ugh, sorry! Sorry, okay. Okay?” 

Eddie did not know what the fuck was happening right now, just that Richie was acting weird as shit and he just apologized for making a your-mom joke. Eddie decided to take whatever this was seriously. “Yeah, dude, just spit it out. I won’t say anything.” He mimed zipping his mouth shut and throwing away the key. He wiggled his eyebrows, and Richie chuckled. 

“Cute, cute, cute. You’re still so cute, Eds.” Eddie wanted to respond to that, but he had already zipped his mouth shut and thrown away the key, a sacred act, so he settled for glaring. “Cute! Okay. So I’ve been seeing this therapist for the past ten years, and we have tried pretty much everything, and, oh, shit.” Richie paused, and kind of just, looked at Eddie for a second. “Okay, actually, I have to start earlier and I have to start with the first thing I wanted to work up to, but nothing will make sense if I don’t start there, so.” Richie went to grab his glass but turned back around when he noticed it was empty. “Damn, okay. Um, okay. So, first things first: I’m gay.” He made a flourish with his hands. 

Eddie opened his mouth to say something, but he didn’t get to find out what he was going to say. “Ah ah ah, zip zip,” Richie said, and pointed to his mouth. Right. “Thanks. Wow, that wasn’t the worst. You’re the first person I’ve ever said those exact words to, besides my therapist, which, going back to my first point, I’ve wanted to come out for, like, ten years, but I just couldn’t, and I have not been able to figure out why.” Richie started to pace in front of Eddie, who looked on, still baffled. “Because, here’s the thing: I live in LA. I live in the Fairfax district! It’s not, like, WeHo, but it’s trendy and not the sort of place I would get beat up for holding hands with a man. And like, my manager is gay. My accountant is gay. I tweeted against Prop 8! I mean, I also voted against it, but in 2008 I told my two hundred twitter followers that I supported marriage equality and maybe ten people unfollowed me. I’ve got performative allyship in the bag. But the idea of coming out and telling anyone about myself, just, I had this deep seated fear that if I did, I would die, literally. Like, I would entertain the thought of coming out and I’d start looking around for snipers or people trying to poison me or whatever. And it didn’t make any sense, uh, until today.”

Eddie could sort of relate to that, at least, considering all the supplements he was probably going to flush down the toilet later. He went to say something that he hoped would be empathetic, but Richie shushed him again.

“Okay, so, therapy. I’ve been doing the work, man. Cognitive behavioral therapy, hypnosis, EMDR, Doc Fischer has had me try everything, and it worked, to a point. Like, I don’t hate myself anymore. For any reason, not even the gay part, which is the whole me, not just my dick. I accept that I am attracted to men. I’ve had sex with men. It was usually fun and enjoyable. I mean, nobody can compare to Sonia in the sack, but--”

“Okay, you nasty fuck, can you not--”

“Eddie, I’m trying to tell you something important, and I need you to please be respectful, as this is difficult for me.” Richie said, mild as mayonnaise. 

“Respect this, asswipe,” Eddie said, then flipped Richie off, which Eddie realized was an awful thing to do when Richie was trying to fucking come out to him, but needs must. Richie snorted. 

“Wow, you have not changed,” Richie said. He sat down in the armchair and put an elbow on the armrest and rested his chin on his knuckles. “Like, I know we’re adults now and we’ve changed but, I dunno, we’re the same. Like, you and me, our thing’s the same. God, so fucking...okay, anyway, where was I? Right. So back in the day, I wasn’t afraid of clowns. It was just the one clown, and I was afraid of that clown because that clown was a homophobe and threatened to out me in Derry and/or murder me, which, same difference.”

Richie shifted again in the chair so one knee was over an armrest and his other foot was on the floor. He leaned back heavily into the chair. “And I still didn’t remember after Mike called, not really, until I walked into the restaurant tonight, and I saw, um. Well, I saw you.” Richie hoisted himself out of the chair and started pacing back and forth in front of Eddie as he continued to speak. “Because I also forgot, which now I can hardly believe, but I totally forgot, dude, you—I was so in love with you! I was crazy over you. Just, fuck, man.” 

Eddie’s jaw dropped open, and Richie went to shush him again, but stopped. “Oh. Have I shocked you? That’s fine, I get it. I’m sure it was super obvious in retrospect, but I don’t think you ever picked up on it. Did you? You can answer that, just nod or shake your head.” Eddie shook his head. “Ha. That’s pretty funny. But anyway, I see you at the restaurant, and I remember what it was like, being thirteen and in love with you, and that was some pure shit, dude. Like, pure, sweet, mostly innocent, like, I definitely wanted to play tonsil hockey with you, but you were so weird about germs and fluids, I didn’t really let myself think any further than that. All I really wanted was for you to pay attention to me, because no one really kept up with me like you did. We could riff and annoy the shit out of everyone and egg each other on. But then like, remember reading together, and we would sit for hours? Oh, god, I lived for that. And we’d just talk, too, about whatever.”  
  
Eddie did remember all that. Separately, they were loud; together, they were a hurricane. But Eddie felt most accomplished whenever he got Richie to sit still and be quiet for more than five minutes. By the time they were fifteen or sixteen, it wasn’t that hard; they both liked to read, so sometimes, especially in the middle of winter, they would get the same book from the bookstore and they would read together and stop after each chapter to talk about the characters and the story. And sometimes, Richie would forget his copy so they’d have to share, and they would lie next to each other on the floor or in bed or in the hammock, pressed up close, and yeah, Richie was a fast reader but he would always wait for Eddie to finish before turning the page, Eddie tapping him on the arm to let Richie know he was done. And they would spend hours and hours like that, lying together, tap-turn-tap-turn. 

The memory was so visceral (and Eddie suddenly understood that Richie never actually forgot his book at home) that Eddie almost didn’t notice when Richie started talking again. “Yeah, I think that was the nail in the coffin of whatever I was still afraid of, because, I dunno, it’s so good, like, I’m not afraid of peace treaties or golden retrievers. How could I be afraid of being in love with you? That’s kind of a weird way to put it, but anyway, I just had to tell you, because that was really what I was the absolute most afraid of back then, that you would find out and you would hate me or think I was disgusting, but looking back, there’s no way you would have. Right?”

“No,” Eddie said. God, no. What would it have taken for him to hate Richie? Eddie couldn’t fathom it. Eddie saw the relief in Richie’s eyes, and wasn’t that just a slap in the face--not that Eddie was offended, but what kind of fucked up world was it where Richie Tozier was afraid of Eddie Kaspbrak for any reason? Eddie was self-aware enough to know that he would have freaked the fuck out if Richie had told him all this back then, but still. “Well, I did think you were disgusting, but I already had so many other, better reasons to be disgusted by you.” 

“Fuck you.” Richie snorted. “Obviously, my love language is ‘words of affirmation.’” That set Eddie off giggling. “Oh my god, your laugh is the same, I’m gonna die. Okay, I also wanted to tell you because I was excited, because for a long time I thought that I just couldn’t feel that way about anyone and I was, like, broken, but it turns out it was all evil space clown magic. And you should know. In case this weekend doesn’t, um, go our way.” Richie paused for a moment, looked at Eddie. Eddie looked back. The moment lengthened between them until Richie broke. “Okay, so I know you made that little vow of silence and I did hold you to it, mostly, but you’re, um, you really don’t have anything you want to share with the class? ” 

Eddie was aware of how easily he was taking everything Richie had told him. He wasn’t reeling at all. He was certainly in a state of disbelief, and this whole thing was entirely unexpected, but he did not feel at all surprised. Then he remembered. “Oh, yeah, so I took a beta blocker, like, half an hour ago?” 

“Medicated. Got it.” Richie went back to the chair and sat down. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “Jesus, I’m tired. That was emotionally exhausting. This has been a fucking day, though, right? Also, uh, no pressure, I know you’re married, to a woman and all that. I really just wanted you to know.”

“Yeah, I, um, I guess, thank you?” Eddie felt that was an insufficient response, but what else could he say? I love you, too? Richie was Eddie’s best friend, so yes, Eddie loved Richie, but. “I’m glad you told me.”

“Jesus,” Richie said, “can I get some of whatever you’re on right now? I’m kind of torn, because this has been the biggest anticlimax I’ve experienced since the last time I fucked your mom, but I’m gonna need some of that zen tomorrow.” 

“Yeah, I’ll bring them with me. I think I’ve got enough for everyone,” Eddie said. 

“Cool,” Richie replied. He stood up and walked to the door. “Um, before I go, could we hug it out?”

“Hug it out?” Eddie said. What a weird thing for Richie to say. Plus, he should know that he never had to ask for that. 

“Yeah,” Richie said, not looking at Eddie. “I’m just afraid I made it weird. And I think I still, you know, feel. Which is crazy, I know it’s crazy, but--” 

“Rich.” Eddie said, standing up and moving toward Richie. He put his hands on Richie’s shoulders. “Richie, you’re my best friend, and I love you. We were already pretty weird. And it’s not like anything’s actually different. I just know now.” 

“Okay, now you’re making it weird. Jesus, if we live through the next 24 hours, you need to come to California and toke up with me. I wanna see what you’re like when you’re blazed.” Richie pulled Eddie into a hug, pressing his face into Eddie’s hair. Eddie was struck by how tall and broad Richie had gotten, but he still mostly smelled the same, same undertones, just none of the teenage BO. They held onto each other for a few moments, and it was Richie who let go first. “Alright. It’s bedtime for this garbanzo bean. Night, Spagheds,” Richie said and opened the door to leave. 

“Goodnight, Rich,” Eddie said, and Richie walked out, closing the door behind him. 

Eddie stood at the door for a moment, before he decided to get ready for bed. He went through his usual routine. He changed into pajamas, flossed and brushed his teeth, washed his face, and put in his night guard. He grabbed his e-reader from his carry-on, turned the side table lamp on and turned out the lights, then got under the covers. 

Eddie was reading _Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy_ for maybe the 20th time. Now he remembered the first time he read it, with Richie over winter break in 1992. Richie would read funny lines out loud and do voices for all the characters, and Eddie would act annoyed to get Richie to ham it up even more, and they would laugh and laugh.

Richie, who loved him, was in love with him, was still in love with him. And Eddie, well, Richie was his best friend. Still, somehow. And yeah, nothing felt better than just being in Richie’s orbit, even now. He’d always wanted to be close to Richie when they were kids; it made sense that that wouldn’t have changed. Twenty years wasn’t so long. And sure, that hug was maybe the best he had felt in, well, a while, but that’s just how you felt about your best friend, right? 

Right?

*

Eddie definitely did not have asthma. 

He probably didn’t even have an anxiety disorder. It made sense to feel anxious about nightmares featuring a rotting corpse trying to infect him with a wasting disease. It made even more sense to be anxious when his dreams were a reflection of reality. The leper was real and there wasn’t anything wrong with Eddie at all. 

He’d almost had It too, but even in his beta-blocked state (He had shared his meds with the Losers at breakfast. They were all on board with a little chemical reprieve.), he wasn’t able to handle being covered in rancid vomit. But that was a last-ditch effort to escape, Eddie could tell. It had been desperate and if Eddie’s eyes hadn’t suddenly been filled with sludge, It wouldn’t have been able to slink away. 

He was very much looking forward to taking a shower and changing, but before he could go inside the Townhouse, he heard Richie calling out to him. Eddie turned to see Richie running full tilt towards him before practically sliding to a stop in front of Eddie. 

“Eds, dude, you are not going to believe--oh. Oh no. What happened to you? You look like you got, you know in the movies when the person’s having a bad day and it’s raining and they’re walking down the street, and a truck drives past them and splashes them with dirty street water? You look like that.” Richie took a tissue out of his pocket and wiped off a bit of sludge that was still sticking to his cheek. 

“Rich, that better be a fresh tissue, I swear to god,” Eddie said, not making any move to stop Richie. 

“So you’d prefer whatever the fuck this is to my snot? Okay, I see how it is.” Richie spat in the tissue and went back to wipe Eddie’s face, but Eddie slapped the tissue out of Richie’s hand before it could come anywhere near him. Richie laughed. “Well, I’m glad I found you. I need to, dude, I think I hurt Its feelings?” 

“Does It have feelings?” Eddie asked. “But yeah, I think I got It pretty good, too. I had my hands around Its throat and it was like, like It was getting smaller, I don’t know.” 

“No, no, yeah, like, so I got my token, right, and It chased me to the Paul Bunyan statue that tried to kill me when I was a kid, which, Jesus Christ, anyway, It was all like, ‘I know your dirty little secret,’ and I was like, ‘What, that I’m gay? Yeah, dude, no shit.’ And It was like, taken aback, I shit you not, but yeah, we went back and forth for a little bit and then It was like, ‘I am the eater of worlds!’ and I was like, ‘You are the eater of children in a shithole town in the asshole of America, you sloppy bitch.’” Richie paused, unable to contain his laughter, before continuing, “God, what a weird fucking thing to say, I’m just full of them, and yeah anyway, It looked like, super sad and pathetic and It slunked off to, I don’t know where, probably whatever toilet It came out of.”

“You made it small.” Eddie said. There was something to that. The Losers already knew that It fed off their fear, and that was how they won the first time: once they were no longer afraid, It had no power over them. But what if they were more than not afraid? What if they made It feel the way It had made them feel? Small and weak and scared. When he was a kid, it hadn’t been enough to not be afraid of getting sick--Eddie had had to throw his inhaler away and tell his mother off. He had done it once; he could do it again. 

Richie snapped his fingers in front of Eddie’s face, startling him out of his reverie. “Earth to spaghetti. You zoned out hardcore for a second there. I made it small. So what?” 

Eddie looked up at Richie and smiled. “I think I know how we can kill It. Text the group and tell them to meet us at the Neibolt house as soon as they find their token. I’m going to--” He looked up at the Townhouse. He really wanted a shower, but they were probably going to have to go into the sewers so what would be the point? “Never mind. Let’s go,” he said, and started walking to Neibolt.

Richie held back for a second, but caught up with Eddie in a few strides. “Okay, they’re all on their way,” Richie said. Eddie and Richie chatted and joked around and poked at each other as they walked, and they ended up with one of Richie’s arms draped over Eddie’s shoulders. About halfway there, Richie cleared his throat. “Does it, like, I dunno, man. I know we were kinda handsy as kids, but am I making you uncomfortable at all?” He asked.

“What? No, you fucking dumbass. It would be super weird if you--like, just be yourself. I like...yourself.” Eddie said, then internally rolled his eyes at himself. The last thing he wanted was to be weird about it, because if he made things weird, Richie would pick up on it and everything would change, and that could not happen. 

“Oh, you like myself? That’s nice.” Richie stopped and pulled away from Eddie. “Okay, I’m just projecting, then. I guess part of it is, in the spirit of honesty, which is my new thing, well. So, I think your mom knew about me.”

“What, that you were gay?” Eddie asked. 

“Yeah, like, I know she hated me, but well, there was this one time, I don’t know, but we ran into each other, I think when I was working at the gas station, and, honestly, I don’t even remember really, just that she knew I was one of ‘those people’ and that if I actually cared about you, I would would stay away from you, and the whole time she was looking at me like I was AIDS patient zero.”

Sonia had been one of those judgemental types who would talk about ‘those people’ a lot. She would say things like, ‘She’s awfully polite. Those people are usually very rude,’ or ‘Those people should be grateful they have anything at all,’ or, ‘I don’t understand why those people must draw attention to themselves.’ Eddie couldn’t recall her saying anything specifically homophobic, and certainly not in front of him. But he’d always had to lie to her about where he was going if Richie was going to be there, unless he wanted to get harangued about Richie being dangerous or dirty or sick and that he shouldn’t go near him. 

Oh.

“Fuck, Richie, I’m sorry.” God, was anything Eddie said to Richie this weekend going to feel like enough? Also, had Eddie been an especially dumb and oblivious child or what? He must have been, if his mother had noticed Richie pining after him while Eddie was none the wiser. But Eddie had never gone through a phase where he had crushes on people, so he didn’t even know what to look for, and he only got married because Myra asked and it seemed like the thing to do, and fuck, this was all too much to think about now. 

His inner turmoil must have shown on his face. “Hey, man, don’t worry about it,” Richie said and smacked Eddie on the shoulder. “She was probably just worried that I would swap her out for the newer model and she’d have to find someone else to blow her back out every n--AH!” Eddie leapt at Richie and got him in a headlock. Eddie hadn’t given anyone a noogie in three decades but the muscle memory was still there. 

“Can you be serious for once in your life?” Eddie yelled into Richie’s face, which was pressed into Eddie’s chest. Richie was giggling like crazy and was making no attempt to escape. “Oh, I get it, your love language isn’t ‘words of affirmation.’ It’s ‘being a fucking asshole so I’ll pay attention to you.’ I know your game now, bitch.” 

“I think this would be ‘quality time’ or ‘physical touch’, actually,” Richie replied, muffled by Eddie’s jacket.

“How the fuck do you know anything about love languages?” Eddie asked. Myra had made Eddie read the book at some point when they first started dating, but there was a good chance Richie had been mostly single this entire time. Or had Richie dated anyone? Had he ever been serious about anyone? Who? When? 

“I used to have a bit that I did in one of my old sets,” Richie replied. Oh, that was, that was fine. That explained it.

“Um, hey, guys?” Eddie looked up and saw Bill and Mike standing on the street corner. “Everything okay?” Bill asked. 

Eddie let go of Richie, who stood up and rolled his shoulders and adjusted his pants. Eddie averted his eyes. “Peachy keen, jellybean,” Richie said.

“You really think your plan will work?” Bill asked. 

“Yeah,” Eddie said. “Come on.” Eddie walked away towards Neibolt and the others followed. Richie caught up so he was walking next to Eddie, and Eddie shoved his shoulder into Richie’s side, and Richie tripped a little and put a hand on Eddie’s shoulder for balance then slid his arm back around Eddie’s shoulders so they were walking like they had been before. Good. Richie would get the picture eventually, that Eddie, well, what did Eddie want from Richie? 

But there would be time for that later, because he could see Bev, Stan, and Ben waiting for them at the house, and--

“Hey guys!” Richie shouted. “Let’s kill this fucking clown!”

Their trip down into the cavern under Neibolt house was uneventful, and killing It ended up being, well, almost disappointingly easy. They still did Mike’s ritual when they got to It’s lair, even though after they explained their theory to Mike, he told them the truth about how the ritual had failed before. Richie thought that it would at least draw It out of hiding, since It was nowhere to be found. Bev was the only other Loser to encounter It while trying to find their token, but no one else had, so they figured they really did have It on the ropes and It had retreated somewhere safe. 

The only real roadblock was convincing Bill that they couldn’t take Silver down into the sewers with them. They figured out a compromise, but, what the fuck, Bill, really?

Pennywise did come out after they did the ritual, but It wasn’t as big as Eddie remembered, or as scary looking, or as anything, really. “It definitely used to look scarier, right?” Eddie asked, and Pennywise swiped halfheartedly at him with one of Its spider-like legs. “Dude, you’re not even trying. I choke you out one time and you turn into a big baby?”

“Who’s a wittle baby?” Richie said. “Is it you? Are you the baby? Are you the wittle baby?” Richie paused and opened his arms, gesturing at the other Losers. “Is this all going to be on the two of us? Come on guys, get into it. The sooner we do this, the sooner we can get the fuck out of here.” 

“Oh, Richie, you want to leave Derry, do you? You moved all the way to California, but you never really left,” Pennywise taunted.

“We have been over this!” Richie shouted back at It, and when It went after Richie, he grabbed It’s leg, and it broke off like a twig. “Alright, if you’re all too polite to bully It to death, at least help me rip it’s fucking legs off!” 

“Fuck it,” Stan said, and went up to It and grabbed one of Its legs. “I have everything I ever wanted in Atlanta, and I almost did something extremely stupid instead of coming up here and facing you again, and--”

“Hey, Stan,” Eddie interrupted. “It really hates being called names, so let It know how you really feel, you know?” 

Stan rolled his eyes, and the others moved to grab one of Pennywise’s remaining legs. It was only a few feet tall at this point, so whatever they were doing was working. “Fine. Alright, you stupid twatwaffle. My life is perfect. It makes sense. It makes even more sense now that I remember that my childhood was full of horrors that are best left unspoken, um, you chucklefucking dingdong.” That one made everyone crack up, including Stan. “But after this, I’m going to go home to my wife and my job and my house, and I am never going to think about Pennywise the Dancing Clown again. Oh, um, you bootless codswallop? That one’s for Patty--she really likes Shakespearean insults? She teaches high school English. I can’t wait for all of you to meet her. Oh, right.” He turned back towards Pennywise and looked It in the eye. “You are nothing to me.” Stan ripped off the leg he was holding with a single pull.

“Icy.” Richie said. “Alright, who’s up next?” 

“I’ll go.” Bill said. “I get a lot of reviews that the endings of my books suck, because my main characters never get any closure and I kill off everyone’s favorites, and fuck, no fucking wonder. Whatever. You killed my baby brother, and you’re never going to do that to anyone ever again.” 

Bill pulled on the leg he was holding and tore it off easily. “Also, you’re a pointless fucking monster. Derry’s already a shithole even without your help. The people here are backwards bigots and, okay, you shapeshift into whatever we find most terrifying, like, the psychology, the implications are very interesting, and that we forgot everything about our childhoods, just from a narrative perspective, that could be pithy, but an evil clown-spider hybrid from outer space that lives in the sewers? Whose coked-up fever-dream did you emerge from? If I made this into a book, I would be eviscerated.” Bill laughed. “Maybe not for the ending, though. People will like this one. We’re all going to live, and you’re going to die.” 

Richie chose that moment to start a slow clap, and Bill bowed. “Bill, if you turn this into a horror movie, I insist on playing myself,” Richie said. 

“I’ll have my people call your people.” Bill replied, then tossed the spider leg on the ground. He looked at what was left of Pennywise; Its heart was visibly beating under Its saggy skin. It looked about as small as It could possibly get. “I know we all haven’t gotten a turn, but maybe let’s just kill It now and be done?” 

“I’m fine with that.” Mike said. “We can go to the townhouse and get drunk and unload our trauma onto each other like normal people.” 

“That sounds good to me.” Ben replied. 

“Let me rip Its heart out, and we can call it even.” Bev said, then reached down and pulled Its heart out of Its chest. They all helped her squeeze it into nothing, and the moment it burst, the walls of the cavern started to shake down, and they ran for their lives. 

After their escape from Neibolt, they walked back to the Townhouse and showered, and everyone congregated in Ben’s room, since he had two double beds, and Ben went and grabbed two bottles of whiskey and some cans of Coke from the bar downstairs. 

“Ben, Mike, Bev, anything you want to say? Or if anyone else wants to go another round?” Bill asked from his spot on the armchair in the corner of the room. Mike was sitting on the floor next to him, and Ben was sitting with his back against the headboard of one of the beds with Bev sitting next to him. Eddie, Richie, and Stan had arranged themselves on the second bed, with Eddie and Stan sitting against the headboard and Richie laying on his stomach at the foot of the bed. 

Everyone was silent for a moment. Richie’s position on the bed was precarious, so Eddie took the opportunity to push him off the bed with his foot. Richie went tumbling and everyone laughed, and Stan turned to Eddie and gave him a look. “What?” Eddie said. It had been the perfect opportunity. How was he supposed to help himself? Richie got up off the floor and walked over to where Eddie was sitting. 

“Scoot your bootie, Spagheds.” Eddie shoved Stan over to make room for Richie. Stan muttered something under his breath, and the room settled into silence once again. 

“I’ll go,” Ben said. He got up and grabbed one of the cans of cola and poured himself a glass. Bill grabbed the bottle of whiskey from the coffee table and offered it to Ben, but Ben waved a hand at it. “No, thanks. Um. I figure if today isn’t what causes me to lose my five-year chip, nothing will.” He smiled sheepishly and looked at the floor and went back to his spot on the bed. “My life, I guess, I have a weird combination of everything I wanted and nothing that I wanted, because, after I left Derry, you know, you all were the best friends I ever had. And I sort of remembered that.” 

He glanced towards Bev, who was sitting next to him on the bed, her legs curled up underneath her and her head tipped back against the headboard. “My token, this is a little embarrassing, but Bev, you signed my yearbook, remember? Before school let out for summer that year? And at some point, I must have torn the page out, and I kept it in my wallet, all those years. Like a touchstone to something better that I couldn’t remember. So I knew that at one point that I was loved, and I had friends who I loved, and I spent my life chasing that, not understanding that I would never find anything like that again.” Bev put a hand on Ben’s knee, and Ben blushed and took a sip of his cola. “Is it crazy that the years I spent in Derry were, well, okay, I wouldn’t call them the best years of my life, but I was happiest then, I think.”

“That summer was awful, but at least it wasn't empty,” Mike said. Bill put a hand on Mike’s shoulder and Mike turned and looked at him for a moment, before looking down at the floor. “I missed you guys. I just.” Mike took a deep breath and sighed and wiped his eyes. “Is it really over? That was too easy. I’ve been waiting so long, and...” 

“Hey,” Bill said. “We were all there. It’s over.” 

Bev covered her eyes with one hand. “I don’t think it’s over for me. What’s the line, Rich? ‘The fun is just beginning?’” She sat up so her elbows were resting on her knees, crossing her arms in front of her. “My life is about to get really hard.” 

“Bev, what’s going on?” Eddie asked. 

Bev sighed. “Well, first I have to get a divorce. I. Jesus, fuck, you guys, I married my father. I got out of Derry and I went to New York and was making something of myself and I might as well have turned right back around.” Bev stuck out her tongue and blew a raspberry. “Fuck my life, you guys. I can’t, I can’t go back.”

“I have a place, um, in New York that you could use,” Ben said. “I mean, if you’d rather do something else, but that’s available, if you want.” 

“Thanks, New Kid, I’ll think about it,” Bev replied. 

“Is it big enough for two?” Eddie asked, which was, well, apparently everyone was being bold this weekend. It had been in the back of his mind, the whole day, the dread of going back home, and Bev’s words had opened a door for him.

“You getting a divorce, too, Eds?” Bev asked. 

Now that Eddie had his memories back, he remembered his mother as she was, what she looked like and what she sounded like, how she spoke to him. It felt like Sonia and Myra Kaspbrak existed on a continuum, and he wasn’t sure where one ended and the other began. When did he move in with Myra? Was it a month after his mother died or was it a year? Did he even know them both at the same time? He wasn’t sure. How could he not be sure?

If he thought about that any longer he would make himself sick, so Eddie got out his phone. “Yeah, uh, you wanna see something that’ll make you feel both better and worse?” He ignored the ten thousand notifications from Myra and opened Facebook. He went to Myra’s page and opened her profile picture. Eddie reached across the gap between the two beds to hand Bev his phone. She looked down at the picture of Myra, at first confused, then surprised, then just a little horrified. 

“Eddie, is this? This isn’t--” she said.

“Yup.” Eddie replied. “That is my wife.” 

“Oh, oh, let me see!” Richie leaped up and got onto the other bed next to Bev, shoving her into Ben. He looked at the photo and the same emotional journey that played on Bev’s face played on his. “Oh. Oh no.” 

“Come on, say it. I know you want to,” Eddie said, bracing himself. Turned out Eddie’s life was one giant your-mom joke. There was no way Richie would be able to pass up this opportunity. 

“Um.” Richie was still staring at Myra’s picture. “Beep beep.” 

“Did you just ‘beep beep’ yourself?” Eddie asked. 

“Yes? I mean, there’s a lot of shit I could say, but, come on, there’s no sport in it.” Richie got off the bed and sat down on the floor, between the two beds, next to Eddie. “Like, she isn’t, is she like your mom?” Richie asked.

Where to even begin? He could start with the supplements and the quarterly checkups with his GP for no reason. Or the frantic texts if she hadn’t heard from Eddie in more than an hour. The fad diets she would nag him to follow but wouldn’t enforce on herself. “Nah, she’s not that bad,” Eddie replied, mostly because he really didn’t want to get into it. “She, uh, we…” He looked at Bev, who was looking at him softly, like she understood. “We have a prenup.” Bev laughed. 

“Well, my apartment has two bedrooms, so you’re both welcome,” Ben said. Despite Richie no longer sitting on the bed with them, Bev had not pulled away from Ben. Ben was very obviously trying to stay cool, and if Eddie of all people was picking up on it, Ben was failing miserably. 

“What about you, Bill?” Richie said. “You’re married. To Audra Phillips, right? She and I are passing acquaintances, actually.” 

Bill scowled. “Beep beep, Richie.” 

“Beep beep? I didn’t even say anything.” Richie said, a hand dramatically pressed to his heart. 

Eddie was confused. “What’s wrong with Bill’s wife?” 

“There’s nothing wrong with her,” Bill replied. 

“I agree.” Richie replied. “Audra is lovely. She’s talented. She’s kind. She’s five-two and has bright red hair.” 

“Okay, fine.” Bill said. “Audra is all those things. But I am realizing that I have a type.” Bill took a swig from the bottle of whiskey. “Or, well, I guess I have two types, diametrically opposed to one another, and one of those types, well…” 

“Oh, that’s weird.” Bev interrupted, gazing down at her phone. “I googled Audra and all these pictures of me popped up.” 

Ben looked over her shoulder at the phone, blinked a few times, and snorted. “This makes me feel a lot better,” he said. 

“Oh, Jesus Christ.” Bill had a hand covering his eyes. 

“Wait a minute,” Richie said. “I wanna circle back. So if you have two types that are diametrically opposed to one another, one one of those types is petite, ginger ladies--” 

“Beep beep!” Bill interrupted. “Please, beep beep, Richie.” Eddie was confused. What was the big deal if Bill ever had a crush on, like, Grace Jones back in the day. Mike looked pretty puzzled as well. 

“Okay, okay, dude.” Richie said. “Uh, if it makes you feel better, I have one type, and that type is Eddie, end of list.” 

Stan leaned over Eddie to look at Richie. “Holy shit, you told him?” 

“What do you mean, did he tell me?” Eddie asked. “Did you know already?”

“Okay, wait.” Stan said. “Before I give anything away, what did he tell you, exactly?” 

Eddie felt shy, all of a sudden. “Oh, well, just that he had a crush on me when we were kids.” 

“Uh, no.” Richie said. “I told him that I was in love with him when we were kids.” 

“Yeah, I knew that.” Stan said. 

“Wait, seriously?” Eddie asked. 

“Oh, yes,” Stan went on. “I believe ‘love of my life’ were the words used?” 

“Oh, shit, ha.” Richie said, taking off his glasses for a moment to rub his eyes. “The day Eddie moved, I had psyched myself up for a little love confession, and then I chickened out, so I stole a bottle of vodka from my parents’ liquor cabinet and got shitfaced and walked over to Stan’s house in the middle of the night and he let me cry all over him.” He turned to Stan. “Hey, you said that I didn’t say anything. I fully did not remember anything after getting to your house. Baby’s first blackout.” 

“No, you told me everything. It seemed like it wasn’t something you would have told me if you hadn’t been wasted, so I decided to keep my mouth shut and let you keep your dignity,” Stan said. 

Richie stood up and reached over Eddie to hug Stan. Stan tried to push him away, but was unsuccessful. “You’re a good friend, Stan. The best. My best friend, Stan!” 

Eddie looked over Richie to see Bill and Mike staring openly at him. “Shut the fuck up, Bill,” Eddie said. 

“I didn’t say anything,” Bill tried, but focus had been effectively pulled. 

“Whatever, Bill, you were thinking it,” Bev said.

“Thinking wha--” Bill tried again, but Bev interrupted. 

“You’ve got no room to talk, Mr. Married-My-Doppelganger.”

“I didn’t...that’s not. Ugh, you guys suck. Yes, I had a little crush on you, Beverly, but it wasn’t anything like…” he gestured vaguely towards Richie and Eddie, “that.” 

“So all those little love poems, that wasn’t you?” Bev asked, smug. 

Bill looked puzzled. “Uh, no? No, I never wrote you any poems.” 

“What?” Bev looked around the room. “Well, if it wasn’t you, then who was it?” 

“Oh, please, it was definitely Ben,” Bill said and pointed at Ben, who had gone beet red. “See, look at him.” Everyone looked at Ben. 

It was silent for a moment. “Okay, yes!” Ben said, having cracked under the scrutiny. “Fine. I don’t know why we had to make this a competition for who had the most pathetic crush back then, but Richie and I were neck-and-neck, I guess.” 

“I don’t know if it was a pathetic crush,” Bev replied. “I thought those poems were pretty good, at least.” 

“Good enough that she kept at least one of them,” Richie said. 

“They were very good.” Now Bev was blushing. “And of course I kept them! It was sweet! I got one every Thursday for the last two months of the school year. It was nice to have something to look forward to.” 

“Yeah, I gotta say, man,” Richie said, “I think my crush was way more pathetic than yours. At least you acted on it!” 

“What, like you didn’t act on yours?” Mike asked. “Where’s Eddie? Is Eddie coming? Come on everybody, we have to break Eddie out of his house. Come on everybody, we have to sneak Eddie back into his house! No, I can’t hang out, I’m helping Eddie with his math homework tonight. No, I can’t hang out, I’m doing something with Eddie and no one else is invited.” 

Eddie remembered hanging out with just Richie, alone. Sometimes Richie would just show up and they’d go get ice cream or something like that, and sometimes they’d make plans to see a movie, just the two of them, and Eddie never really questioned it, or tried to invite anyone else. And of course there was their little book club, which was also just the two of them, and it was possible that no one else even knew about that. 

“Okay, whatever.” Richie looked over at Stan. “Who are you texting, Stan.” Stan looked up, caught out. “You fucking millenial.” 

Stan rolled his eyes. “First of all, we are all Gen-X. Second, I’m talking to my beautiful, intelligent, lovely wife, Patty. In case I wasn’t clear, I love and cherish her and we will not be getting a divorce, unlike the rest of you.” Bill tried to interject but Stan just kept talking. “Anyway, she’s been live-updating me with details about the blossoming friendship between one of our chickens and the neighbor’s Great Dane.” Stan smiled. “Here, I’ll forward all of you the pictures.” He tapped at his phone and a moment later, a chorus of notification sounds filled the room. They all looked at their phones. 

“Oh my god, they love each other,” Ben said. 

“It’s not coming through on my phone. Show me,” Bev said, grabbing hold of Ben’s wrist and drawing his hand toward her so she could see his phone. “Oh my god, they really do love each other. That’s amazing.” 

One of the pictures was a selfie of Patty holding a chicken. She had kind eyes and a worn-in, easy smile. “I shouldn’t be surprised you have chickens, Stan,” Eddie said.

“No, you should,” Stan replied. “I always preferred to observe birds from a distance. Patty takes a hands-on approach--to most things in life, actually. Not just chickens.” 

“How long have you been together?” Ben asked. 

“We met my first day at Boston University, and we haven’t really ever been apart since. Obviously we’re apart right now, but I don’t think I’ve been away from her longer than a week? In, what, twenty-two years?” Stan replied. “She wanted to come with me, but I told her I needed to come up here alone. I’m honestly surprised she listened to me. I was not myself after Mike called, that’s for sure. I was overwhelmed, I almost, well, I ended up taking two xanax and fell asleep in the middle of the afternoon. I got up early the next morning, told Patty I was coming back here, and that’s that.” 

“Did you tell her why you were coming here?” Eddie asked.

“Did you tell your wife why you were coming here?” Stan asked in return.

“Fuck no,” Eddie replied. 

“Well, neither did I, but I promised I would tell her everything once I got home. Or, some version of everything, but probably just the truth. Besides, how the fuck else can I explain how I’m friends with you people. Especially after having never mentioned any of you, in spite of having lived in Derry right up until I moved to Boston.” 

“I dunno what I’m gonna tell my wife,” Bill started. He gestured with the bottle of whiskey, which was now only half full. “Hey, honey, guess what! I had a brother, but he’s dead because a clown ate him. Don’t worry! I killed the clown, just for you, babe, it’s not gonna eat anyone else ever again.” Mike gently took the bottle of whiskey out of Bill’s hand. “Thanks, Mikey, you’re so nice to me. I should be done with that. Fuck. Audra thinks I’m like, this sexy, solitary, spooky guy--Hey! Don’t laugh at me. Lemme finish. What was I saying? Oh, right. But like, was that the clown? Or was that me but now I remember shit, so like, I dunno what I’m saying.” 

Mike stood up. “Come on, guys, let’s get on Bill’s level. Ben, you’re exempt of course, but still try to get in the spirit of it. I also have, uh, other stuff, if anyone’s interested.” 

“Yeah, I want some more of that root shit,” Bill said. He was sitting like a ragdoll in the armchair now, staring out into space. 

“I think you’ve had enough. Also, I was talking about pot,” Mike said. 

“I’d smoke a joint.” Ben said. 

“Me too!” Richie chimed in. 

“I’ve never tried it, but I,” Eddie started, then paused. Was he, a forty-year-old risk analyst in a polo shirt and khakis, who drank red wine only on the weekends and had a kale smoothie every day for breakfast, was he going to get high for the first time in his life with childhood friends in this hotel room in Derry, Maine? There was no way it was legal in Maine! And who knew where Mike sourced it from. It could be cut with anything. What if he took the first hit and it turned out that it was full of fentanyl and he dropped dead right there? But there was no way that would happen, so fuck it. “Yeah, I’ll have some, too.” 

“Woo! Party on, Eddie baby!” Richie got up. “Come on, guys, let’s get sloppy.” 

*

Eddie was high. 

At least, he thought he was high. He’d never been high before, but what else could this be? 

“Hey, guys?” Eddie said from where he was lying on the floor, with his legs propped up against one of the beds, feet in the air. “Does anyone else feel like their bones are soft?” 

“Ha, Eddie is blazed,” Bev said. Ben was asleep with his head on her lap, and she was playing with his hair. Stan had opted to go to bed rather than indulge in “Mike’s skunk weed,” which Mike had taken offense to, since it turned out that Mike had grown it himself, legally for that matter. Now, Mike was sitting with Bill in the corner and they were murmuring to each other about something. They had gotten on the topic of conspiracy theories and Eddie soon after lost the plot. It was really hard to concentrate on anything. Where was Richie? Being high was weird but kind of nice. Eddie felt a smile come on to his face, like his whole face just scrunched up like something was really funny and he wanted to laugh, even though Richie hadn’t said anything in a while. Where was Richie? 

“Where’s Richie?” Eddie asked. 

“Oh my god,” Bev said. “For the last time, he’s out on the deck.” 

“Okay, I’m gonna go out there.” Eddie got up, and it took awhile for him to find his balance, but he got there eventually. He looked around at his friends. The world could be a real shitty place, and his life was kind of a mess, but that was like, he could deal with that. And he could have fun and stuff and hang out with his friends and they all could have soft bones and that was fun. Where was Richie? Oh, right, Bev said he was out on the deck. 

As he walked out the door and down the hall, Eddie could feel a bit of his sanity returning to him. Being high definitely wasn’t a revelation or anything, like, he already knew that reefer madness wasn’t a thing and that it was largely non-addictive and that it only caused problems if it led to the user developing bad habits. He hadn’t expected it to be quite this much fun though and he also hadn’t expected to like it this much, way more than being drunk, which he had always disliked, to be honest. And he was pretty sure that the ever-present knot in his back above his right shoulder was gone. He’d have to look into getting a medical card when he got back to New York. 

Ugh. New York. Myra. Work. Blech.

Oh, well. Living with Bev was gonna be really fun, and Ben’s apartment was way nicer than anywhere he had ever lived before. Ben had shown him pictures when Eddie and Bev had started making tentative plans for their respective escapes. Eddie was pretty sure he would have the gumption to call Myra the next day and tell her that he was leaving and filing for divorce. He had packed enough clothes and things to get him through the next two weeks at least, and subconsciously he must have realized things would be coming to a head this weekend, because he had also brought his fire-proof box with all his important documents and little valuables with him, though he did keep the originals of almost everything in a safe deposit box in the bank next door to his office, and he might have made sure to take all the copies of the key with him to Derry as well. So he was about to upend his entire life, and it was going to be a giant pain in the ass, but had everything he needed.

Speaking of giant pains in the ass, where was Richie? Oh right, the deck. Eddie began walking from where he had been standing in the townhouse lobby, staring out into space, contemplating his life’s direction. He finally made it to the deck, and there was Richie, leaning up against the railing, looking out into the darkness. A lone street lamp lit up the corner, but there was a full moon, so even though it was near midnight, Eddie could see rather well. 

Eddie sidled up to Richie and bumped shoulders. Richie startled a little bit, but softened when he saw it was Eddie. “Hey,” he said.

“Hey, what are you doing out here?” Eddie asked. 

“Eh, weed makes me paranoid sometimes. I just needed a breather,” Richie said, then turned around so his back was against the railing, elbows supporting most of his weight, so that he and Eddie were at eye level.

Eddie smiled. “Dude, I’m like, the opposite of paranoid right now, so like, whatever you would call that. Squeeze my hand.” 

Richie gave him a look. “What?” 

Eddie held out his hand. “Just squeeze it.” Richie took Eddie’s hand in his and gave it a squeeze. “Can you feel how soft my bones are?” 

Richie snorted. “What? What the fuck.” 

“I dunno.” Eddie pulled Richie into a hug and laughed into his chest. Richie’s arms came up around him and he started laughing too, until they were interrupted by someone banging on the window behind them and telling them to shut the fuck up because some people were trying to sleep. Eddie and Richie broke apart, still giggling, but quietly.

“Hey, let’s take a walk, I wanna show you something,” Richie said, then started off walking back inside. Eddie followed him through the lobby and out the front door. They walked side by side for around fifteen minutes, not really saying anything, just giving eachother looks or elbowing each other every once in a while. It was a nice night, bright enough that they didn’t need flashlights, and only a little chilly. 

Richie had led Eddie to the kissing bridge. Eddie watched him walk up to the railing and squat down, placing a hand on one of the old boards, feeling at one of the old carvings that someone had graffitied there ages ago. “Come here,” Richie said, and Eddie walked over and crouched down beside him. Eddie looked where Richie had his hand.

“R plus E,” Eddie said, and thought for a second. Ah, that took longer to figure out than it should have. He was still pretty high. But, he had realized this weekend that he could be pretty oblivious when it came to Richie, willfully or otherwise, so maybe it would have taken a second to figure out R+E if he had been sober, too. “When did you do this?” Eddie asked. 

“That summer,” Richie replied. “After you broke your arm and we were all separated.” He sat down with his back against the boards, and Eddie sat down next to him. 

“Jesus, Richie, how did you know?” Eddie could hear the frustration in his own voice. “Like, how did you know yourself well enough to know that that’s what you were feeling? We were thirteen. I don’t think I know myself well enough even now to know if I could ever feel that way.” 

“I dunno.” Richie sighed. “I guess it was always different with you. Always kinda big and important? And like, I never, well, book club would have been a lot different if it had been with Bill and Stan, you know what I mean?”

“Well, Stan would have given you homework, and Bill wouldn’t have let you cuddle in bed with him.” Eddie laid his head on Richie’s shoulder and took Richie’s hand in his. They sat like that for a little bit, Eddie thinking about the last two days. He thought about frantically gathering up his things, somehow knowing without understanding that everything was about to change and that he was going to be the one to do it. He thought about travelling to Derry, seeing his friends again, Richie confessing his everlasting love to him for fuck’s sake, killing the clown. 

From every moment from the time Mike called, Richie had been with Eddie at least a little bit, even if Eddie hadn’t really remembered him until he had seen him at the restaurant. That feeling he had gotten while he packed his bags to leave was the same one he got every time he snuck Richie into his house through his bedroom window. And how he felt right now was the same as how he felt tucked under the covers with Richie, book in hand, tapping Richie on the arm to turn the page over and over for hours on end. 

So maybe this was just how you felt about your best friend after all, if you were in love with your best friend.

“Richie,” Eddie said, tentative, looking intently at his own shoes. “Do you, uh…”

“What?” Richie whispered.

“Do you want to kiss me?” Eddie asked. 

Richie huffed out a breath. “Do I want to kiss you?” Eddie looked up at Richie. Richie was giving him a very weird look. 

“Yeah? Like, if I dared you to, would you do it?” Eddie wasn’t sure why this was the route he was taking, but it sure felt right.

Richie looked some sort of combination of disbelieving and amused. “Uh, well you don’t have to dare me, but uh, do you want me to kiss you?” 

“I think so,” he said, after a moment’s thought. 

“Ah.” Richie swallowed and looked away for a second. “You’re kinda, you know. We should probably talk about this when we’re sober, right?” 

“I guess we can talk about it tomorrow, but you could still kiss me right now anyway. If I dared you to.” This was more Eddie’s speed. Egg Richie on until he did the thing that Eddie wanted to do so Eddie could follow him. “So am I going to have to dare you?” 

Richie laughed. “I think so.” 

“Okay. I dare you to kiss me.” Eddie grinned and leaned in even closer. He felt like a shark circling his prey, but like, if that shark had an anxiety disorder. A very nervous shark. This was very fun and terrifying. 

“Uh, can I do ‘truth’ instead?” Richie asked, leaning away from Eddie. 

Eddie felt the smile drop off his face. “What the fuck, Richie? ‘Can I do truth?’ You never pick truth, you always pick dare.” 

Richie shrugged. “Yeah, but like, I don’t have any scary truths anymore.” 

“Okay, then, tell me the truth: do you want to kiss me?” 

Richie rubbed his eyes. “Okay, fuck it, yeah? Like, kinda all the time, a little bit. I mean, it’s not like, an overwhelming urge, it’s not a creepy thing, or anything.” 

Eddie was starting to think that, in spite of the very thorough love confession Richie had given him the night before, Richie might still be kinda repressed and insecure and maybe didn’t have all his shit together, and maybe they were more evenly matched than Eddie had thought.

“Richie,” Eddie said, getting up on his knees and putting a hand to Richie’s face, his stubble rough against Eddie’s thumb.

“Yeah.” Richie looked up at him a bit dazed, like he had finally convinced himself that this was happening.

“It’s my turn.” Eddie said. “Ask me ‘truth or dare’.” 

“Okay.” Richie swallowed heavily. “Truth or dare?” 

“Dare,” Eddie said. At some point, Eddie’s other hand had moved so that he was cupping Richie’s face in his hands.

Richie stared up at him. “Um.” He blinked a few times, but didn’t continue.

“Do it, Rich. Dare me to.” Eddie said, looked away for a moment, then whispered, “please.” 

“Okay, um.” Richie took a deep breath in through his mouth and out through his nose, then grinned up at Eddie. “I dare you to kiss me.” 

Fucking finally. Eddie tipped Richie’s head back and their mouths met, teeth knocking together since they were both grinning. Richie put his arms around Eddie and pulled Eddie into him, and Eddie gasped and Richie took that opportunity to slip Eddie some tongue, and then they were properly making out in the middle of the night in Derry on the kissing bridge where Richie had carved their initials almost thirty years before, and Eddie knew then, with a brand new and certain clarity, that he would never be without Richie ever again. Holy shit, was he going to marry this man?

Eddie had to break away to laugh a little at that. “What?” Richie asked, breathless. “You okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Eddie smiled down at him. “Just had a thought.” Yeah, just a thought. Just planning out a big chunk of the rest of his life, without any regard for the risks involved or how it could all go wrong or the mistakes he could make. But it would be with Richie, so that terrible mess he was about to make was going to be so much fun. He kissed Richie again, lightly this time, and Richie hummed. Richie pulled Eddie down so he was practically sitting on Richie’s lap. At some point, they stopped kissing and just held each other like that, foreheads pressed up against each other, breathing the same air. 

“Can I stay with you tonight?” Eddie asked. “Not like, um, I don’t think I’m ready for like, you know, and also, infidelity nullifies my prenup, so...” Eddie trailed off. 

“Wow, prenup, that is a real boner killer, but yeah, of course.” Richie said, then shoved Eddie off of him so he could stand up. He offered Eddie his hand and Eddie took it, and Richie helped him up. Eddie put his arms around Richie’s waist, and Richie melted into Eddie, pulling him close. “You’re really for real, aren’t you?” 

“You would know,” Eddie said, muffled by Richie’s chest.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Richie replied. 

They walked back to the townhouse much like they had walked to the kissing bridge, except this time, they walked hand in hand, fingers woven together. Eddie was surprised by how normal everything felt. Well, no that wasn’t quite right. This was all new and different, but it made sense, like, this was just one more piece in the puzzle, or this was the most correct next step. And maybe this would all go up in flames, and maybe Eddie was feeling optimistic because he was still kind of high, but for once in his life, he wasn’t worried about the future. 

**Author's Note:**

> HMU on Twitter @fireswampdaily.


End file.
